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"unconsoled" poems
(an ekphrastic poem based on the painting Nighthawks by Edward Hopper) Four solemn faces, doused in gold, like moths to flame, seek warmth from the cold. Darkness leers, but harsh light shields these lonely creatures from their feelings untold. One diner desolate, a waiter old, and three weary visitors are portrayed. The scene unfolds. Most eat under the sunlight, unlike these nighthawks who flocked from their households. Some loneliness darkens hearts like blindfolds; nighthawks’ hearts aren’t exceptions. The woman red and bold, the man in shadows, and another man with a cigarette in his hold are isolated together. They are controlled and defined by solitude. They don’t belong. No mold fits them. They only have a diner, each other, and lonesome souls unconsoled.
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Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
Nighthawks Retold
With a firm footed march, under sun and moonlight We slowly advance towards December, She was, like butter, so tender, I understood We would sit near the camp and  compare notes, A walk in the woods, we'd do,  smell wild flowers, Gather ideas, without rhyme or reason, laugh together, Life had an irregular graph, like always And an internal logic, one needs to soon grasp, There is nothing fool proof, here remember, *Sudden cloud bursts, land slide, thunder and flood, Are no wonders, be ready to face wonders too as facts of life.* Every smart plan go burst, then what about windfalls, did you forget? *How can you loose heart, cry unconsoled, We grasped every unwritten rule, so why cry?* Didn't we stand still and sense which way the wind blows? Ever did we forget, to partake in  simple pleasures? *On every lake, with clear water ,we found time To swim **** competing with silver bellied fish, till we were tired,* On the shade of a tall mango tree you sat on my lap playfully, We closed our eyes, snoozed a while, till the breeze woke us up again **At  December, in the journey's end, we'd part ways, as it is said Though alone, one always is,  this togetherness was really the meaning.**
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Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 3:03 PM UTC
Till that December Night
You've taken every Dream i've had Laid waste to every plan cruely taken all i've Loved. Left me in this Godforsaken land, When I called out in the night while in hot writhing agony with a troubled heart unconsoled Why did you not answerer me? When I begged you take this pain from my aching breast I felt the arrow through my heart Blood pouring from my chest, I Prayed to you a thousand times and pled a million more Why leave these fiery beasts Banging,busting down my door? You left me in the dark with Demons and no control I couldn't help but think at last this my death bell toll. You left my life to Satan when I did but beg release and like a fool I still Prayed for my Soul--Abiding Peace You left my prayers unanswered night after night- No Reply What did I ever do to you That even my death you would deny, As silent tears run down my cheeks I will Pray to you No More! I realize you have Forsaken me and left Demons at my door.
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Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
DEMONS
Where do the willows weep? Where wars are fought and corpses sleep, Where time is stopped and love is fleeting, And all the blessed take the beatings. Where do the willows weep? Where the wicked rest on council seat, Where infants wail unconsoled, With no one to love, To have and to hold. Tell me where the willows weep! Where justice crawls and corruption leaps, Where righteous men live in the streets, Is THIS the place where willows weep?! Is THIS the place where willows cry?! Where only evil can satisfy, Where wings are clipped and none can fly? All "truths" are started with a lie A lie that penetrates so deep, It haunts the cities in late night sleep, Into the children's dreams it shall seep. Yes, this is where the willows weep.
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Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
Where Do The Willows Weep?
I can't believe that my good mistress' gone. she came,she saw,she lived,she worked and died. But duties of her is yet to be done. That's why I'm weeping while long I cried. She is now call among the dead,she's dead. No place to see and hear her any more. We lost her sweet maternal tea and bread. on our unconsoled heart lies ever sore. To sorrow I was nailed when I realised; her teaching and its great impact in life, her charming voice of care and great advised. That's why I called her sister,mom and wife. If God not God,I shall curse him the God. But since He is God,I have to nod. #sonnet
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Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
I CAN'T BELIEVE MY GOOD MISTRESS' GONE
The Lingering and the Unconsoled Heart by Michael R. Burch There is a silence— the last unspoken moment before death, when the moon, cratered and broken, is all madness and light, when the breath comes low and complaining, and the heart is a ruin of emptiness and night. There is a grief— the grief of a lover's embrace while faith still shimmers in a mother’s tears ... There is no gruesomer time, nor place, while the faint glimmer of life is ours that the lingering and the unconsoled heart fears beyond this: seeing its own stricken face in eyes that drift toward some incomprehensible place. Keywords/Tags: lingering, unconsoled, heart, death, bed, deathbed, silence, last, rites, hospice, eternity, finality, infinity, grave
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Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 5:58 AM UTC
The Lingering and the Unconsoled Heart
Sunlight smiles on my weary bones Wind brushes past the curtain to kiss my face The melodies of morning circle through the trees And I'm beginning to remember how I loved this place Twenty years I struggled to absorb the rush Learning to ignore could hardly dull the pace Paid for all my crimes, my virtues cost me more And compromised the very solace of this place There were long stretches of featureless road And the detours that left me breathless and unconsoled One of them a softly focused silhouette She had the delicate, fragile beauty of youth, porcelain cold There is no color in the wind The hues are muted by the memories No direction through my mind No clues to anchor me in time She made me lose my troubles, gave me hers a while Never minded really, things were different then Now I'm somewhere near the place where I last had my smile Is this the focal point of being, the beginning and the end To hate is to remember, to love is to forget The dawn and the sunset spinning on the same coin And when at the right angle you can see both sides You can stare too long and lose all sense of time To mirror opposites requires all the pieces be in place To pass between both sides requires higher space To continue on a journey you need just one thing How you reach your destination, well that depends on what you bring
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
Sunlight
In a nubile forest, once we wanted to explore together, under our wisdom tree that has seen halcyon days and draining droughts alike, you sat strumming your lyre, my head cradled on your lap, singing for me a song,in Spanish you promised a long time before. wasn't it pure ecstasy? did I drift to the sea, cut off from the anchor? As the scented wind blew, from the valley of flowers to a dream we were  transported in that dream we sang and danced all night long, till in the sea of forgetfulness,I dissolved. And when the harsh light pried  open my eyes  again, I was lying alone under a wilted tree, as if tumbled out of a bad dream. What I thought happened, was just a dream? Or am I still waiting for you to come and make your promise come true, at last. Delirious, my anxious mind  keeps asking did you leave me behind alone, and moved ahead in search of your dream ? An evil whirlwind chases me from behind, I suspect that takes everything from my hand and leave me sad,alone, unconsoled. The forest, is still nubile, in my heart, nothing has changed you are still the living light there, under the lonely pale moon I'll wait, till the time either you would return or I'd lose hope, slowly wilt and fall.
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Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
Unconsoled
What colour is sky? The sky is blue. The colour of morning, and its delightful hue. Fantastic forests with delightful due- add a jewel to this cronet of hue. What colour is sky? The sky is pink. The colour of twilight, and its alluring wink. A tinge of joy hides in the skies- like dreams living in a maiden's Eyes. What colour is sky? The sky is dark. The colour of night, and moon's cry of lark. Here lurk secrets never said or told, and persist emotions, eternally unconsoled.
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May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 12:15 PM UTC
What color is sky?
There is this world, not very far- where travel words, spreading fragrance. where to observe a wilting leaf, time slows down and waits with patience. deep sea secrets people here hold- about fears and regrets, mistakenly unconsoled Here shine stars of emotions too coy, like love madness and infinite joy. here true and fantasy merge into one, to heal the scars of dreams undone. Never are masks of lies here worn, even flaws of life people here adorn- this fine world shall light up your skies, when you look into a poet's eyes. And then on a cold, full moon night, Open the gates to this kingdom of smiles, Dive down deep into her voice, Coz this world is a journey of thousand miles. And when it ends, you shall see- Every step was worth a lifelong memory.
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Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 1:18 PM UTC
A poet's eyes
Giveth but half a description: crude, The state of the self incessant, I brood Fatigued; In vain, in the dark I await, a patient ear that lark- My pain, a frozen litany but to utter Unconsoled, feeble, I stutter That, my desolate heart belongeth not in gaiety, nor misery..an existential entity, a lost liberty.
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Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 12:39 AM UTC
Disconsolate
Under the maple tree, where gold lays to waste; ink on the page, her only escape. Or putting on the paper, this pretty landscape. Oh that bright bulb, it shone so bright, but nothing lasts forever, not even her light. It faded rather quick, and all went dark. Now her bare feet brush along the bark. Under the maple tree, where gold lays to waste; nurtured by the tears that fell from from her face. She gave up hope, thus the rope. The future of her past gone away; everything black, it fades today. That soft blue soul has turned to gold; Her mind, midas and unconsoled. With the care that she always gave so much, Her mind went blank, and her end adjudge Under the maple tree, where gold lays to waste; one more soul has been erased. upon the sight of faded light, she as well gave up her fight
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May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 9:36 PM UTC
Under the maple tree